Darkness and Light
by GeekGrrl
Summary: Spikes point of view the beginning of Wrecked. Basically I didn't like the attitude that came across in the show, so I re-wrote it to suit what I thought he was thinking.


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TITLE: Darkness and Light   
**AUTHOR:** Sheri Steeves  
**DATE WRITTEN:** December 2001\January 2002  
**FEEDBACK:** Please! Post to list or send e-mail to sheristeeves@hotmail.com  
**ARCHIVED:** alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer.creative, fanfiction.net   
**SPOILERS:** Season 6 up to and including "Wrecked"  
**RATING:** R - Restricted for minor sexual content, adult ideas and thoughts.   
**DISCLAIMER:** Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc own all of this. I just want to borrow them for a while.   
**SUMMARY:** Spikes point of view the beginning of Wrecked. Basically I didn't like the attitude that came across in the show, so I re-wrote it to suit what I thought he was thinking.   
**ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:** I kept the dialogue the same, as much as I could tell (from endlessly rewinding my tape!). I also used Psyche's transcript of the episode (http://www.psyche.kn-bremen.de/110wrecked.html). Many thanks to the keepers of that web site; it has proved invaluable many times.   
Many, many thanks go to my wonderful beta Monica. She's the best. Without her, this wouldn't be nearly so well written.

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Darkness and Light

I watch as she sleeps. Wrapped in my duster, curled against my cold body, her blond hair mussed from lovemaking. Her face is relaxed, her breathing even. She looks happy, peaceful even. I don't want this moment to end. I wish I could freeze time, leave her in peace and in my arms. I can't freeze time though, and I know it won't be long before the outside world comes crashing down on us. Weighing her down with all the bloody responsibility and duty that she feels she has to carry alone and then she'll leave again. She never stays so why do I? Why do I keep coming back to her? How many times will I crawl back to her only hear her tell me I'm just a monster? I stay because I love her. And right now s'all I got. My love for her and this crazy hope that someday she'll return that love. That she'll see the man instead of the monster. I can't say why I love her. I just know that I do. She's the light I can never stand in, the heart and soul I no longer have.

The sun's coming up. I can feel it. Its deadly rays are already sneaking through the boarded up windows above us. I can feel her stirring beside me and I wonder if she is as sore as I am. After last night and everything we did and shared, I'm surprised I can still move. I have the sneaking suspicion that last night meant far more to me that it did to her. If it meant anything to her, she'd never bloody well tell me anyway. 

I feel her body stiffen beside me and with a sudden jerk she bolts upright, holding the duster wrapped around her body like a shield. It shields nothing from me; every inch of her body is inscribed indelibly in my mind. Already I miss the warmth of her next to me. I watch her face in the morning light as she looks around. I see the surprise on her face as she takes in the crumbled remains of the building, the shame as she notices clothes scattered about and the revulsion as she looks at the cushions we... well - not exactly slept on. Even though I was expecting this type of response from her, seeing it still hurt, stabbing sharper than any stake ever could. I play it cool, play the big bad she expects from me, hiding my pain. I'm not about to give her another weapon to hurt me with. Not when she has so many already.

"When... when did the building fall down?"

"I don't know." I was a little to busy myself to notice when the walls came down. I can't help but chuckle at the look on her face at this point. "Must have been sometime between the first time and the, uh..."

"Oh my god..."

She starts running around, grabbing her clothes as she finds them. I watch her. She's always so bloody quick to run away. She'll face any number of demons or monsters or apocalypses, but she can't face the feelings between us. Is she afraid to face me? Or, and this is more likely, she's ashamed of me, of us, of what we've done. I'm still beneath her. And that's what burns the most.

"What's your hurry, luv?" 

"The hurry is that I left Dawn all night. And don't call me love."

"You didn't seem to take issue there last night. Or with any other of the little nasties we were whisperin'..." Yeah, I know. I'm a bastard for bringing it up. Part of me wants to see her reaction, wants to see how she was going to deal with this new development. Probably the part of me that enjoys getting stomped on. 

"Can we not? Talk?" 

Ah, true Buffy style. She doesn't deal with it. 

"I just don't see why you have to run off so quick. Thought we could..."

"Not going to happen. Last night was the end of this freak show."

Ok, that got to me. **I** am not a freak show. **We** are not a freak show. Dunn't matter what or who we are. All that matters, or all that should matter is that we find a bit of happiness in each other. I don't know what makes me angrier, her calling us a freak show, or saying that it would never happen again. I reach for her, pulling her into my lap.

"Don't say that, " I grind out, holding my anger in check. She knows me though; she can feel my anger in the tenseness of my arms as they hold her. I know it's there on my face written plain as day.

"What did you think was going to happen? What, we were going to read the newspaper together? Play footsie under the rubble?"

"Not exactly what I had in mind. Maybe..." I can't help myself. She's on my lap. I can feel the heat of her under the slick leather of her skirt. When she's this close to me thinking is out of the question - all I can do is feel. I run my hand up her leg, under her skirt, to the very core of her. I hear her telling me to stop, but there is no real strength in her arms as she pushes me away. I find her centre, and hear her moan of pleasure. I lean forward, swallowing her moans with a kiss as she meets me halfway. Our tongues duel, fighting for supremacy. She pulls back.

"No..., no..., I-I have to..."

"Stay here. I'm stuck here. Sun's up." She hesitates. I know she's worried about the Bit. I am too a little, but if I let her go, she may never come back. And I'm selfish. I pull her closer, rolling her under me and pinning her to the floor. I taste her again and again as her hands roam over my cold flesh, branding me with their heat. I can't get enough. I don't know if I can ever get enough. For a moment it scares me a little, this power she has over me. I pull back to allow her to breathe. I can feel the heat radiating off of her, warming me.

"I knew... I knew the only thing better than killing a Slayer would be..." She pushes me off.

"That's what this is about? Doing a Slayer? " 

She's pissed. Dinn't let me finish either. I was gonna say loving a Slayer, but she'd never bloody well believe me now. She's never believed me all the times before. Why should now bloody well be any different? I can't get her to see that the way I feel when I am with her surpasses everything I've ever felt. She still doesn't trust me. Doesn't seem to matter what I do. Doesn't matter how many times I help her, or Dawn, or the Scoobies. Doesn't matter what we've just shared together. I lash back out at her. I'm not going to be the only one in pain here.

"Wouldn't throw stones pet. You seem to be quite the groupie yourself." The look in her face tells me I hit my mark. 

"Shut. Up."

"I'm just saying. Vampires get you hot." I wish the words back as soon as they leave my mouth. Not only was it not helping explain anything, it just brought the poof into the conversation too. She looks at me.

"**A** vampire got me hot. **One**. But he's gone. You're just... you're just convenient." 

I thought she had already stomped on my heart enough for one morning but that doesn't seem to be enough for her. The bint has to grind it into dust as well. The way she said it though... the hesitation in her voice makes me wonder if it's me she's trying to convince or if she's trying to convince herself. Or am I just trying to convince myself? Bugger it all. I grab my jeans from the floor and pull them on. She still can't see past the vampire that I used to be. She can't see how much I've changed. No, that's not true. She won't **let** herself see. It's clear enough that she doesn't want to talk about us or about what happened last night. Head in the sand. If she doesn't talk about it, maybe she can convince herself it never happened. Too bloody bad. It happened. **She** jumped me. There will be consequences. We **will** talk about this.

"So. What now? You go back to treating me like dirt 'til the next time you got an itch you can't scratch? Well, forget it. Last night changed things. I'm done being your whipping boy."

"Nothing changed. It was a mistake."

"Bollocks. It was a bloody revelation." I move closer to her. She still smells of vanilla and sex. "You can act as high and mighty as you like... but I know where you live now Slayer. I've tasted it." My voice is low as I tell her this. I've been where she is. I know what she's going through. There's a dark side to her that ties her to me. She can bloody well fight it all she wants, or ignore it, or try to pretend it isn't there. Neither of those will make it go away, and it certainly won't make it any less real or any easier to deal with. I know about dealing with a dark side. I've had one for the past one hundred and twenty six years, haven't I? But, as usual, she takes the wrong meaning.

"Get a grip. Like your God's gift..."

"Hardly." The thought of me, a vampire, being God's gift makes me chuckle a little, but it fades away as I look at her. I realize that my not being God's gift is exactly what makes me attractive to her. It's because I'm bad. I'm evil. I'm the one her mother should have warned her about. Except her mother would more likely invite me in and make me hot chocolate with little marshmallows. Joyce could see the man in me. So can Niblet. Why can't she? Because if she saw the man instead of the vampire then she'd have to face the fact that she has feelings for me, that she could love a soul-less vampire. She would have to admit that a soul-less vampire is capable of love. If I'm just a vampire, then what we do means nothing. It's just a fling, a little trip on the dark side. 

"Wouldn't be as interesting now would it?" I can hear the bitterness in my voice, but I doubt she can. I reach for her, knowing I shouldn't, knowing that all this means nothing to her and everything to me, but I can't help myself. The memories of last night and the smell of her as she stands there are too much. Her scent fills me as I reach for her, but she pushes me away. Again. Still.

"No. Let me go!"

This time I stop her as she tries to push me away. I hold her in the circle of my arms, enclosing her completely and cutting off her retreat. She stiffens in my embrace and glares at me. She could easily break my hold but for the moment she's listening to me.

"I may be dirt, but you're the one that likes to roll in it, Slayer. You never had it so good as me. Never." I know she hasn't even though she'll never admit it. I've never had it so good, and I'll never admit it either. We complement each other. She is light to my dark, good to my evil; we balance each other out. 

"You're bent." Now she breaks my hold, turning away from me and slipping on her jacket. She's leaving, just as I bleedin' knew she would. Always has to have the last word too.

"Made you scream though, didn't it?" That was a bit crude, but it had the desired effect. Make her angry and she'll stay just that little bit longer.

"I swear to god, you tell anyone about last night and I **will** kill you."

I stand stunned for a moment. I saw the revulsion, the shame when she woke up and realized what we had done. The pain I felt then was only a fraction of what I am feeling now, hearing her say those words, watching the expression on her face. She doesn't mean it, but she thinks she does. I'm so bloody tired of the "do this or I'll stake you" and the "don't do this or I'll stake you". An emotion I have no name for rushes through me. A mix of pain, anger, heartsick frustration, and something else indescribable. It makes me reckless. I dangle her lacy panties in front of her.

"Right," I say. "You're gonna want these, too. "

I should have seen the punch coming. Guess that was the last word.


End file.
